After Midnight
by Vixi3
Summary: A little Femslash for you Hardbroom/Drill shippers out there.I hope more people start writing HB/Drill stuff, i love reading it :D xx
1. Chapter 1

The sun was setting against the mountainous backdrop of Cackles Academy as Imogen Drill, head of PE, set out on her evening run. The sky was overcast and the wind was brisk, she smiled to herself, that was how she liked it.

A few stretches later she set off through the woodland, this was her favourite route, the scenery surrounding the castle took her breath away and put her mind at ease. Sprinting down the mountainside she headed towards the village nestled in the castles shadow, the lights of the houses were just coming into view when the rain began fall.

"Walters wet week…" she muttered to herself. The wind made the rain more intense against her skin, and before long she found herself running at an increased pace towards the shelter of the village. Soaked, she entered the warmth of the tavern. As usual it was quiet, a few elderly regulars and an unhappy looking dog sat in the corner, approaching the bar Imogen wondered if more than three people even lived in the village.

"Drink love?" slurred the barmaid.

"I suppose it would be rude not to." smiled Imogen as she ordered a large glass of wine. Taking up a seat by the fire to dry off she sipped at her drink. Tucked away in the corner of the tavern she could see as the door opened, but didn't believe her eyes when she saw who walked in.

Constance Hardbroom, the uptight potions head from the Academy entered into the room her cloak flapping frantically in the wind. Imogen watched, transfixed as the older woman removed her dark cloak, her ebony hair was tied in a high ponytail, quite different from her usual tight bun. As she hung her cloak up Imogen contained a gasp of amazement, the potions teacher had forsaken her usual tight dress for an exquisitely tailored trouser suit, and it was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

Sinking back in her seat to avoid being seen Imogen stared as the tall woman walked slowly towards the bar and ordered a drink. before taking a seat on the other side of the tavern. Her gaze transfixed by the witch she didn't even notice the tall, young man entering the room. Or at least not until he walked across the room; to sit opposite Constance.


	2. Chapter 2

Imogen blushed, what had she walked in to. And more importantly, did she let curiosity get the better of her or sneak out now, before it was too late? Constance was sat with her back to Imogen, she could easily make a dart for the door, yet she didn't move a muscle. Sipping her wine she watched the man smile as he spoke to Constance, his eyes moving up and down her body, like a lion sizing up its prey. It made Imogen sick to her stomach. She'd always had a soft spot for the witch, despite their constant arguments she couldn't help but think that deep down they cared for each other and on top of that Imogen considered Constance to be the most beautiful woman she'd ever laid eyes on.

She could feel the jealousy building inside of her. What was so special about this man that he was entitled to her time, to her conversation, to be able to look at her like…like _that._ Imogen would kill, just for a third of what he had right now. She wished she could see Constance's face, to see if she was reciprocating his advances. Was she smiling? Constance had the most beautiful smile, and hardly anyone got to see it.

Imogen decided she didn't want to know, her heart heavy she downed the rest of her glass in one swift motion and headed for the door.

As she stepped into the night the cold air hit her, and so did the wine. Feeling saddened and slightly lightheaded she began her accent through the trees back towards the castle.


	3. Chapter 3

Constance sighed as her companion walked away towards the bar. She thought she'd enjoy this, yet she couldn't help but think her evening would be better spent cuddled up with a book and Morgana. She looked up at the clock on the wall, 10.30, the night was still young, unfortunately.

Albert had seemed very charming, an intelligent 30-something wizard who was leading in his profession and appeared to be _very much_ into her. She should be having a fantastic time, yet couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Why had she come here tonight anyway? It had been a long time, too long, had she really agreed to go out with Albert purely so she could indulge her basic instincts? She'd thought that's what she'd wanted, but now, she wasn't so sure.

Albert returned to the table, smiling at her as she let his eyes run up and down her figure. He placed the drinks down, letting his hand rest over hers as he sat himself close to her.

"I've had a lovely time…" she began as he stroked her hand with his thumb.

"Me too Constance, and I was thinking perhaps we could head somewhere more…private?" Albert smiled as he finished his sentence his gaze flitting between her dark eyes and ruby lips.

"And I was thinking, perhaps not…" her words trailed into nothing as she tried to avoid eye contact.

"I understand." Albert muttered, removing his hand "If you ever, you know…well, you know where to find me"

"Thank you Albert, for a wonderful evening."

"Anytime" he smiled as Constant got up to leave and watched as the witch collected her cloak and walked out, the expression on her face unreadable.

The night was cold, and predictably for Walter's wet week there was a fine drizzle falling from the sky. Turning her face into the moonlight she let out a heavy sigh before disappearing into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Imogen wandered into the empty courtyard her eyes stinging with hot tears. She couldn't tell if it was the wind or her breaking heart which had prompted their presence. Sitting down on the cold stone bench she looked to the sky and sighed, what was she even thinking? Constance probably wouldn't even _consider_ being attracted to a woman, let alone break the professional boundary of being with a colleague. She should be happy for Constance, that she'd found someone, that she was having a good time. The thought of the man in the bar holding the witch in his arms in a way she could only dream of was too much. She could no longer hold back the tears streaming down her face, all she could hope was that the rain of Walters wet week would disguise her pain.

Constance materialised at the school gate, her arms clutched to her sides defensively she strode through the courtyard towards the castle. In the corner of her eye she spotted the figure of Imogen Drill soaked through and staring towards the sky. Concerned Constance made her way towards the younger woman, hesitantly she placed her hand on Imogens shoulder and muttered "Miss Drill?"

The feeling of a hand on her shoulder sent shockwaves through Imogen, quickly turning her head she inhaled sharply as she found herself making full eye contact with a worried Constance Hardbroom.


	5. Chapter 5

Imogen's heart was pounding in her chest as she cowered under the intensity of the witches stare. Constance was more beautiful now that she'd ever remembered, her dark eyes and porcelain skin shimmered in the moonlight and her long dark hair fell perfectly across her shoulders and down towards her chest. Imogen merely stammered as she tried avert her gaze from Constance's…assets. "Imogen?" The witch spoke again, her voice more concerned than before "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing Miss Hardbroom." Imogen stammered shaking her head "I was just…admiring the beauty…" tilting her head towards the sky in an attempt to hide her real thoughts.

"Yes, I'm rather partial to the night sky myself. But really Miss Drill, you'll catch your death out here"

Imogen looked down to her soaked running clothes, Constance was right, but leaving now would end this perfect moment and she'd endure hypothermia just to keep it going. Before Imogen could decide on her next move she felt warm fabric envelope her and a slender arm creep around her waist. Constance had drawn her into her cloak, pulling her close to keep her warm, the intensity of the situation was almost too much for Imogen to bear. She shuddered as Constance's hand once again made contact with her bare shoulder, walking towards the main entrance she kept her gaze to the ground and hoped to God that the witch could not see her blushing.


	6. Chapter 6

Constance hadn't thought twice about sharing her cloak with Imogen, a practical necessity, but as the younger woman's damp body pressed against her she felt something quite unexpected.

She felt her heart rate increasing, her palms become clammy and her muscles tense. Constance stopped herself, it _had _to be the wine, after all she'd had more than her fair share this evening and surely that quantified a better explanation than being attracted to Imogen, didn't it?

"Is everything alright Miss Hardbroom? You've gone rather…sullen." She looked down at the younger woman, running her eyes across the toned physique below her. "That's really none of your business Miss Drill." The words came out cold and aggressive as she tried to mask her conflicting feelings. She could see the hurt develop across the non-witches face, pursing her lips she retained her stone-faced affront.

"Why were you even out running so late, and in _this_ of all weather?" Constance asked firmly.

"I like to challenge myself." She felt the younger woman's body straighten up as she took pride in her physical fitness regime "Fighting against nature, its exhilarating"

"I'm sure. Still, I can't say it's my preferred way of spending my evenings" Her voice was naturally laced with sarcasm, and she felt the non-witches head tilt up to look towards her. Constance kept her gaze forward, trying to avoid the awkwardness that would ensue if she dared make eye contact.

"Is that so? And where might I ask have you been this evening then Miss Hardbroom?" Imogen's voice was confrontational, as if daring her to tell the truth.

"Again Miss Drill, that's really none of your business."


	7. Chapter 7

The two women entered the warmth of the castle and Constance quickly removed the cloak from around them. Running her hands through her damp hair Imogen let out a sigh as she watched the older woman stride towards the cloak hooks. She could sense that the witch was troubled; she wanted to run over, to hold her, to feel the softness of that porcelain skin.

Hesitantly she stepped towards the older woman, then paused. Was it wrong to use Constance's vulnerability to her own advantage, to make a move on her? She couldn't stoop that low, no matter how much she wanted it.

Constance turned to face the younger woman, aware of their closer proximity, and Imogen's hesitation. The non-witches feelings were written all over her face, a trait she almost envied. Pursing her lips, she maintained full eye contact, revelling in the warm curiosity of Imogen's stare. "Can I help you Miss Drill?" her voice remained composed, only hoping her eyes would do the same.

Caught off guard Imogen began to stammer "I…I…well…no. No, you cannot." Her eyes saddened, sending a wave of distress through Constance. Had she upset Imogen? Why did she care so much? And why was she desperate to set it to rights? The younger eyes were scanning her face, searching for any indicator as to what the witch was thinking.

But that was just the problem, Constance was no longer thinking. Stepping forward and meeting Imogen in one long stride she grabbed the younger woman by the shoulders. Swiftly she lowered her head and brought her face towards Imogen's until she met the warmth of her breath. Before she could close the gap the non-witch had caught her lips with her own and was running her hand through Constance's hair.

Imogen couldn't believe what was happening. All of the feelings she'd had towards Constance, could they be reciprocated? As soon as she'd considered the question the witch pulled away leaving Imogen looking up to the older woman's eyes, searching. The dark brown eyes before her held nothing but fear, blinking only once before disappearing into thin air. Looking down at her shoes, the magical taste of Constance Hardbroom still on her lips Imogen was left alone in the dark hallway of Cackles Academy.


	8. Chapter 8

Imogen walked slowly up the antique oak staircase, thoughts racing through her head. Constance _had_ kissed her right? It all felt like a dream, too perfect to be real. Pausing at the top of the staircase she contemplated turning right, towards Constance's room, knocking on her door and demanding an answer. Her heart ached as her feet took her left, to the solitude of her own bedroom and her own mind.

Constance had materialised in her room, in shock at the evenings events. She couldn't deny it, the feeling of kissing Imogen had been electric. The mere touch of her skin had sent every fibre of her being on fire. But she wasn't gay, was she? Clutching her sides she battled with her conflicting emotions, fighting back the urge to leave the safety of her room and scour the castle for the non-witch. Sitting down on the edge of her four poster bed her head fell forward into her hands, tears flowing from her eyes. She was so confused. Constance had endured a strict upbringing, under the watchful gaze of her mentor Heckitty Broomhead, she knew behaviour such as this would be considered immoral. But, did she care? She'd never been one for pursuing hedonism, but with Imogen it had felt more. Could she be in love with Imogen Drill?

Imogen changed into her oversized T-shirt, holding back tears and trying to think of anything but Constance Hardbroom. Running her hands through her hair she flopped down onto her bed, staring at the wood work on the ceiling. She was moments from sleep when a tapping on the window caught her attention. Could it be…? Jumping from her bed she practically ran towards the window, only to be greeted by a very damp and distressed looking cat. "I swear there isn't an inch in this school that isn't colonised with cats" she grumbled as the opened the window and took the feline in her arms. The cat nuzzled into her neck, purring gently. "You're quite pathetic. You know that?" Imogen chuckled as she dried it off with her dressing gown. "Now. Which witch do you belong to huh?" she asked softly as, sitting on the floor scratching her new companion behind the ears and closing her eyes and thinking this cat must have known how lonely she'd been feeling. A knock on the door made her eyes snap open, sighing she stood up wondering which student had had a nightmare or seen a rat. She opened the door and gazed up into the same brown eyes she'd nearly drowned in earlier.

"I believe you have my cat."


	9. Chapter 9

"Y-you're cat?"

"Yes Miss Drill. Morgana. I saw her heading towards your side of the castle, and I saw you take her in."

"Oh. I see, yes, well, I dried her off. She's over there. " Imogen gestured towards the cat, who had made herself quite comfortable on the non-witches bed. Constance entered the room, closing the door behind her. The non-witch couldn't help but stare as the taller woman made her way to the bed, her porcelain skin encased in dark purple silk. Suddenly very aware of her own attire Imogen felt her face and neck turn scarlet, as the witch turned she could feel her eyes burning her as they surveyed the shorter woman before her. The air hung heavy as an intimidating silence filled the room.

Imogen was the first to bite the bullet. "Constance, what happened earlier. I mean, what…what…?" she mumbled, trailing off, her eyes glancing anywhere but in the direction of the other woman.

"I don't know Imogen." the pain and confusion in her voice resonating through the non-witches soul. "I've had a lot to drink and…well, I'm not thinking clearly." Constance was staring at her feet, waiting for any sort of response.

"Do you regret it?" Imogens voice was quivering, fearing the answer which lay ahead.

Constance looked from the ground to Morgana, this was her moment, her moment to make the decision she'd spent the past half hour chastising herself over. This moment, it may never come again.

The witch cleared her throat and lifted her eyes to meet the younger woman's. "No Imogen, I do not."


	10. Chapter 10

The tension in Imogen's room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Both women stood in silence, their eyes firmly fixed on each other. Unanswered questions hung in the air around them as each of them waited for the other to make a move.

The silence was broken by the clatter of Morgana knocking the glass of water from Imogens dresser. The noise tore their eyes from the contact, and Constance took the opportunity to distract from the matter at hand. "Oh,Imogen. I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up. Goodness Morgana, you're usually so well mannered…I just don't know what's gotten into her…" The witch could feel she was rambling, inside every muscle was tingling with fear and her heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted to run, to leave the situation, to not address the issue at hand, her feelings for Imogen.

"Don't bother" the voice in her ear was quiet, seductive, Imogen. Turning her head to meet the younger womans gaze Constance felt her breath catch in her throat. Imogen was pure radiance, she smelt of honey and her gaze held nothing but affection. The water on the floor was forgotten as the non-witch scooped her into her arms and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"You bewitch me Constance Hardbroom." The words were barely there, practically just a breath gentle against the witches temple. Imogen clung onto the purple silk of the taller womans gown, pulling them closer together. Constance was stiff, panic taking over, her heart pounding faster and faster against her rib cage. Imogen was holding her, caressing her, _loving _her. Was this not what she had wanted? What she had fantisised about in the privacy of her own quarters.

"Please Constance." at the sound of the voice the taller woman looked down into the gym mistresses eyes. Her eyes were pleading, still filled with adoration for the woman in front of her. Imogens voice softened to less than a whisper "Please give me a chance, to show you how much I love you."


End file.
